Haiku Society of America Haibun Awards
Haibun Awards for 2024
Peter Newton & Barbara Sabol
judges
First Place:
by Dylan Stover, OH, USA
heartwood
for David "Woody" Stover
It began with a young beech tree on a windy day, mid-spring. Acting upon an impulse I cannot now explain, I pressed my ear to the smooth, gray bark and started listening. To my surprise, there was sound: a secret inner creaking, like a stifled moan, as the crown twisted in the breeze. It was voice—tree voice. Each limb, as it swayed high in the canopy, was sending reverberations down through the acoustic body of the tree and into my ear as I crouched patiently at its side.
hand at my chest
the doctor suspects
a murmurThat’s when I became a listener of trees: I quickly discovered that smooth bark was best; the thicker the cork layer, the fainter the sound. Lithe ones were more melodious, aged ones more laconic, terse. But all speaking.
Then one day I noticed a pileated woodpecker hammering away in the upper branches of an ash tree. Sneaking up to the bole, I put my ear against the bark: ta-tum ta-tum ta-a-TUM ta-tum… The wood trembled at each jab. Even the scrapes of the bird’s claws were amplified: every movement echoed inside me, as if the bird, the tree, and I were unified in a single, ringing vibration.a simple procedure
to remove the weevil
—then silence~ ~ ~
Comments from the Judges (combined)
The title of this skillfully balanced haibun encompasses the poem’s through-themes of communing with the trees through their “heartwood,” while also subtly alluding to the human heart, its physiology and the emotional life associated with it, in the paired haiku. With its clear beginning, middle and end, “heartwood” enchants the reader with a wholly unique subject matter reminiscent of a fairytale. Complete with a central character who, we learn, “became a listener of trees.” Like an excited child waiting to be told what comes next, the reader is ready. The person speaking has a story to tell. And we are compelled to become listeners as well. From the outset, there’s a bit of mystery that quickly shifts to intrigue as we discover what exactly compels the main character to lay an ear to the bark of a tree. What stands out in “heartwood” is its measured tone, cadence and control of language in both prose and poem. The familiar message of the age-old search for a oneness with nature is made tangible, through sound. The bird, the tree and the poet are all “speaking,” in a way, “in a single, ringing, vibration” that resonates long after the story ends. Who among us will pass by an elm, maple, beech, willow, oak or pine without thinking, I wonder what they have to say.
Second Place:
by Dian Duchin Reed, CA, USA
What I'm Doing on My Summer Vacation
My yard is not very big, but it’s big enough to shelter a million ants, keep the bees in business, and lure hummingbirds down to flirt with red flowers.
Who knew that aphids came in a rainbow of colors? When I sit still, I might see a gopher pushing dirt out of its hole, then taking a break while its head soaks in the warmth of the sun. I’m learning the towhee’s cat alarm and the crows’ hawk taunts. I sometimes hear coyotes singing along with a passing siren.
Did I mention the opossum babies who ride on their mother’s back at dawn? The skunk’s evening saunter? School’s about to start, and I haven’t even scratched the surface. The millipedes and Jerusalem crickets will have to wait till next summer.the mockingbird
plays its whole repertoire
endless afternoon~ ~ ~
Comments from the Judges
From the opening line, the reader appreciates the delightful irony of this poem’s title. We are immediately pulled into the speaker’s yard where myriad creatures that inhabit it, from crow to cricket, take center stage. The poem basks in the wonder of discovery, via the act of attention; of simply being present. The prose engages us with its conversational style, supported by long, leisurely speech lines, with its music, and with tangible, sensory imagery that animates the narrative. While the surface tone is light, musing, a weighted layer of meaning arises in the question, “Who knew. . .?” in the second stanza. There is an epiphany at play here, a discovery of more than just the presence and habits of flora and fauna in residence. The possibility of a life more fully experienced underpins the narrative. The poem calls to mind James Wright’s “Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota,” where the speaker’s exaltation in the natural world around him leads to a gut-level realization: “I have wasted my life.” The lovely haiku further deepens the prose through the suggestion that the speaker plans to “sit still” and listen to the “whole repertoire” of nature on many more “endless afternoons.”
Third Place:
by J Hahn Doleman, CA, USA
True Places Never Are
Lighter than a tuft of seafoam, yet tasting heavy as iron, this palmful of mycelium dust dissolves on my tongue as we trudge across an ancient caldera high above the territory of mapped consciousness.
thinning air
an obsidian cairn
warm to the touchUnder the retreating sun, still shining like a new doubloon, our breath becomes visible as we follow the lost footsteps of Klamath and Paiute. Traversing the first sequence of switchbacks, a jagged mountain scrimshaw leading to the summit, our boots awaken prehistoric ghosts beneath the crunch and scuttle of igneous rock. On one flank of the volcano, bleached skeletons of mountain hemlock blur into a Danse Macabre, their trunks swaying like mizzen masts in a typhoon. A whale-sized andesite obelisk crests above us, spouting luminescent fractals from an invisible blowhole.
the universe still expanding rhyolite fragments
This white-haired alp appears to slumber as gusts of wind from an invisible, eternal Victrola play across its skin, spinning out records of our past. We test our sea legs on the glacier, a frozen brig drifting within its own concept of time, as meltwater runoff rushes its way to the ocean and a world we will never quite fathom.
open crevasse
a Pandora moth
enshrined in ice~ ~ ~
Comments from the Judges
This haibun communicates a lot of scientific information in a lyrical tone that educates and enthralls the reader. The landscape being described in “True Places Never Are” is both exterior and interior. Physical and emotional. A tribute to the awesome beauty of nature that surrounds this mountain traveler. At the same time the level of detail offered in the prose is an invitation to the reader to marvel along with the speaker.
The haibun is told from the perspective of someone inside the large cauldron-like hollow that forms after a volcanic eruption. Imagine that experience. The reader trails along this fascinating journey over “the crunch and scuttle of igneous rock” entirely captivated by the amount of detail being described. Interspersed throughout the prose are three haiku that add another layer to the emotional landscape of the speaker. Each poem reinforces the reverence of each named thing: obsidian cairn, rhyolite fragments, Pandora moth. As suggested by that last example, the reader is invited to explore the seemingly endless landscapes through which our minds and bodies travel. But unlike in the Greek myth of Pandora’s box, our curiosity does not release a curse upon mankind but curiosity itself is its own reward. When the reader returns to the title, it is what R.H. Blyth might call a “half-said thing” which was one way he defined haiku. But the title is also a reference to the act of writing. Of setting down in words the landscapes we encounter. In this way, the haibun is as much a tribute to the imagination. The reader can fill in the blank: True Places Never Are. . . perhaps, able to be named.
Honorable Mention:
by John Budan, OR, USA
Vision
In a quiet neighborhood there is a tiny park surrounded by streets and older homes. Only a picnic table and children's play apparatus invade its natural state. Its focal point is a rustic bridge that crosses a shallow creek. This city park is a reminder of the Clackamas tribes that lived here by the endless blue fields of camas that once proliferated. I tell my daughter stories about the old ones and blue jay and his sister Ilo and how coyote built Willamette Falls. She says she wants to be tricked and after a long silence, she points to an oak in the shadows of the full moon. She claims that she can see a woman with long black hair weaving a basket. On this eve of the solstice, raven, coyote, blue jay, and other tricksters return to visit the land of their ancestors.
urban landscape
old growth forests
reshaped into houses~ ~ ~
Comments from the Judges
This is a modern rendition of a vision quest. The speaker has wisdom to impart to a daughter as well as the reader. The speaker’s words carry on the oral tradition of Native Americans in recounting the origins of her local small suburban park. In a continuation of the trickster motif, the closing haiku shape-shifts once-sacred trees into the very house in which the speaker may very well be living in.
Honorable Mention:
by Billie Dee, NM, USA
Big Sky Country
up past midnight
northern lights still dancing
in our headsRising at dawn, we pack the worn rucksack with just the necessities—pocketknife, mosquito spray, an old issue of Newsweek—and head out with fishing poles. As we enter the first stand of pine, Mikey turns and waves goodbye to our cabin. I grin, knowing no one’s awake but us kids.
At the sagebrush flat we catch a batch of baby grasshoppers. Granny showed me how last summer. "Walk real slow through the scrub and swat the little critters with a rolled up magazine—not too hard, you only want to stun them. Stow them in the Prince Albert can from your Grandad’s tackle box."
Our trail becomes steep now. The rattle of swift water grows louder as we crest the ridge, then descend to our favorite spot below the beaver dam. A small meadow of gnawed-off stumps is overgrown with skunk cabbage and horsetail reeds. Mikey spots moose tracks so we’re on the lookout. Those thick willows lining the creek should give us cover if one shows up.scent of rain. . .
a pair of rainbows
thumping in the creel~ ~ ~
Comments from the Judges
The opening haiku of this haibun works as a prologue to an engaging narrative describing a childhood memory in “Big Sky Country.” The present tense prose creates a sense of immediacy, such that the reader is apt to hear the voice in this poem as that of a ten-year old. Specific language and tangible sensory imagery such as the sound of “the rattle of swift water,” the brush of “horsetail reeds” and the sight of “gnawed-off stumps” produce a cinematic effect that draws the reader into this adventure. Granny’s quoted caution further animates the story, and the final prose line re-opens the narrative with the implied possibility that the appearance of a moose might further add to an adventure. The deftly rendered closing haiku fully re-engages our senses, complimenting the prose while adding an associated image of a successful fishing escapade.
About the Judges
Barbara Sabol is the author of six poetry collections, most recently Watermark (Alternating Current Press, 2023.) She writes both long- and short-form poetry. Her collection, Core & All: Haiku and Senryu, was published by Bottom Dog Press in 2022. Barbara’s haibun, “Kintsugi,” was short-listed for the Haiku Society of America’s Touchstone Award in 2024. Her book, Imagine a Town, won the 2019 poetry manuscript contest for Sheila-Na-Gig Editions. She went on to become the associate editor of the journal, Sheila-Na-Gig online and edited the anthology, Sharing This Delicate Bread, featuring selected poems from the journal. Barbara’s awards include an Individual Excellence Award from the Ohio Arts Council, the Arts Alive 2024 Outstanding Literary Artist award, and she was named Ohio Poet of the Year for 2024. Barbara conducts poetry workshops through Literary Cleveland and the Cuyahoga Falls Library. She lives in Akron, Ohio with her husband and wonder dog.
Peter Newton is the author of several books in the Japanese short form tradition including What We Find (haiku), Welcome to the Joy Ride (First Place in the 2014 Merit Book Award from the Haiku Society of America), A Path of Desire (tan renga with Kathe L. Palka), The Searchable World (First Place in the 2018 Merit Book Awards from the Haiku Society of America), Part-Time Gods (winner of the 2022 Snapshot Press eChapbook Award for haibun), and Glide Path which was awarded Second Place in the Haiku Society of America’s Merit Book Awards for 2023. His newest book is forthcoming in 2025. Born in Detroit and raised north of Boston, Peter makes his home in the Green Mountain State of Vermont. He has spent more than thirty summers as a staff member at Middlebury College’s Bread Loaf School of English and The Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. Since 2012, he has served as co-editor for the online literary journal tinywords. In 2024, he joined the Editorial Team of Contemporary Haibun Onlineas a Haibun Co-Editor.